I've been dating younger men since my 20s, When I was 29, I dated

In the radiant and unapologetic words of Dana Delany, we hear a declaration not merely of preference, but of spirit: “I've been dating younger men since my 20s. When I was 29, I dated someone 21... younger men are just more fun. I like their energy. I've always been kind of young for my age.” To the casual ear, it sounds playful, even lighthearted — yet within this confession lies a deeper wisdom about the nature of vitality, freedom, and the refusal to let age become a prison for the soul. Hers is not a statement about romance alone, but a song of rebellion against the tyranny of expectation — a woman choosing life, not according to the calendar, but according to the pulse of her own heart.

From the beginning of civilization, age has been both a measure of wisdom and a chain of convention. The ancients taught respect for the elder, yet they also revered youth — not merely for beauty, but for energy, for the raw, untempered force that drives creation itself. What Delany speaks of, in truth, is this sacred exchange between experience and vitality, between the calm of maturity and the flame of youth. To seek companionship with one who carries that fire is not vanity, but an act of remembrance — a way of keeping one’s own spirit alive. For those who fear the fading of time, she offers a lesson: age does not define your aliveness; your energy does.

When Delany says that younger men are “more fun,” she is not merely praising youth’s playfulness — she is invoking something elemental: the joy that comes from curiosity, spontaneity, and openness. The young, unburdened by the weight of regret or the armor of cynicism, live close to the present. Their laughter comes easily, their hearts are still uncluttered by the debris of fear. To be near such energy is to be reminded that life, at its core, is not a march toward decay but a dance of renewal. And so, Delany’s affection for youth is not conquest, but communion — an exchange between the seasons of life, where the winter of experience is warmed by the spring of vitality.

The ancients told many tales of such unions, not of scandal, but of balance. The philosopher Socrates, in his dialogues, was often surrounded by young minds whose vigor challenged his wisdom. He did not love them for their youth alone, but for the energy that kept his intellect alive. Likewise, the Roman poet Catullus wrote that love itself is the great equalizer — that in passion, all ages are stripped of their years and reborn in the now. It is in this tradition that Dana Delany’s spirit resides: one who refuses to let the dust of time dull the gleam of her being, who seeks not to imitate youth, but to walk beside it as an equal in wonder.

Her words also reveal an act of defiance against the double standards of the world. Society has long smiled upon the older man who takes a younger lover, calling him charming or virile, while judging the woman who does the same as restless or vain. But Delany’s voice rises above such noise — firm, clear, and unashamed. In her confidence, we find the timeless courage of those who live by truth rather than tradition, who understand that authenticity is the only real virtue. Her declaration is not about the men she chooses, but about the sovereignty she claims — the right to live in accordance with joy, not judgment.

There is also a tender humility in her saying, “I've always been kind of young for my age.” These words reveal not pride, but a recognition of the soul’s eternal youth — that part within each of us untouched by the years. It is a reminder that age is a costume the body wears, while the spirit remains timeless. Those who nurture that spark — through laughter, curiosity, and love — never truly grow old. To live “young for one’s age” is to live awake: to greet each sunrise as if it were the first, to meet each heart as if it were a new world.

The lesson, therefore, is as simple as it is profound: measure life not in years, but in vitality. Seek those who stir your spirit, who challenge your stillness with their motion, who remind you that joy is not a privilege of the young, but a right of the living. In practical terms, this means choosing relationships, friendships, and experiences that expand your energy, not drain it. It means surrounding yourself with people who make you curious again — who call forth not your age, but your aliveness.

So remember, O listener, the wisdom hidden in the laughter of Dana Delany. To live well is to remain young at heart, unafraid of the new, untethered from convention. Let the years come as they may, but never let them harden you. Embrace the dance between wisdom and wonder — for life, when lived fully, does not age; it ripens. And those who, like Delany, keep their souls attuned to the music of youth will discover that time itself bows before the spirit that refuses to grow old.